


but with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow

by parkadescandal



Series: 20kAu [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: 20kAu, Angst, Hate Sex, M/M, Mimicry, PWP, Pining, TSCU, Unrequited Love, imitation is the sincerest form of thottery, one-sided soriku (but only for now)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/parkadescandal
Summary: "No point in denying it. Vanitas is keenly aware of the complicated cocktail of emotions he brings him every time he arrives unexpectedly. The anger, the longing, the bitterness, the lust—'You look a little tense, dearest,' Vanitas says flatly. 'Have you tried working some of that off? I’m free if you’re looking for a fight.'”
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: 20kAu [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1223426
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	but with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow

**Author's Note:**

> The one and only (I _hope_ ) 20k prequel. Pining for someone who you're certain won't love you back? Bullied by a guy who looks exactly like him? Try prescription strength Rikuvan™️ for all your trashfic needs. Side effects include feeling like you've consumed an entire dumpster, extreme feelings of guilt, and wishing for the sweet release of death.  
> Angst, hate sex, and PWP should cover it, but things could get dubious—see end notes for more information.

“Hello, darling.” 

Riku looks up into the rafters to find Vanitas hanging insouciantly above. Riku rolls his eyes and presses on. Vanitas laughs; Riku stops, not turning around. 

“What’s so funny?” Riku says in spite of himself. 

“Alright, then,” Vanitas responds to his retreating back. He speaks in a higher pitch, amiable, _sweet_ : “Hey, Riku! Going so soon? I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave!” 

Riku freezes, seized at first by the shock of it and stalled by the tide of sudden rage lapping at his ankles. Vanitas cackles now, and Riku hears the sound of his helmet clattering to the floor. Riku doesn’t care to turn around and confirm. 

“Okay,” Vanitas says through laughter, back to his characteristic crackle. “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t quite it.” He clears his throat and makes the small adjustment he needs to speak in someone else’s voice. “Oh, Riku. Please? Come back. I need you. I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I need to show you—”

“ _Vanitas_ ,” Riku says, only daring to look over his shoulder. “ _Shut up._ ” 

Laughing anew, Vanitas swings and lets loose, doing a flip and landing on his knees with a flourish. With a puff of air he arrives directly in front of him. The static settles around them and catches their hair. Vanitas looks directly into his eyes with a lopsided sneer, and Riku’s face turns up again. 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” 

Riku stares back, incensed. Vanitas barks another laugh in his face. 

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, reaching out as if to brace himself on Riku’s arm. “Lemme try one more time.” This time he dons an angry pout, fists on his hips. “I trusted you, Riku. I thought we were friends. I can’t believe you would think about me like that.” 

Immobilized with rage, Riku sets his jaw and balls a hand up at his side. 

No point in denying it. Vanitas is keenly aware of the complicated cocktail of emotions he brings him every time he arrives unexpectedly. The anger, the longing, the bitterness, the lust—

“You look a little tense, dearest,” Vanitas says flatly. “Have you tried working some of that off? I’m free if you’re looking for a fight.” 

“I’d rather you just shove off.” 

“You’re right. Not as appealing as it sounded at first. Gimme a second and I’ll think of something more fun.” 

Vanitas looks up at him, face passive again. 

“You wanna fuck?”

—

Riku slams his head backward on the wall so hard he’s sure it’ll bleed. His arm twitches at his side, and he doesn’t dare look down, knowing all he’ll see is dark hair at his waist, Vanitas on his knees as he takes him into his mouth.

He moves in exaggerated motion, sloppy—every time he moves _up_ while going down on him, his lips touch the head. 

“Quit messing around,” Riku snipes. 

Vanitas laughs darkly but complies, muttering _‘yes, sir’_ as he takes him deeper until all he’s able to do is bob in place, having thoroughly gagged himself. He chokes on a delighted hum and bolsters himself, adjusting balance on his knees and grabbing at Riku’s backside and thighs to dig his nails in deep. Riku stops a cry abruptly, throwing a hand down to grip desperately at his hair. Vanitas engages in a noisy repeat performance for his benefit. Riku bucks helplessly into it, feeling a laugh vibrate around lips still full of him and the sharp sweetness in waves coming from his bruising grip. 

Riku slaps one hand back to scrabble for purchase on the wall and bucks again, and Vanitas responds with another affirmative murmur. That proves incentive enough on its own for Riku to continue his enthusiastic thrust. Now cocksure he’s assured the continuous screwing of his mouth, Vanitas opts to free up one of his hands, but not before sliding down to cup the curve of him, reverently pressing each individual finger to rest admiringly on the firm muscle of Riku’s leg before he reaches down to give himself relief. 

They stay in this cycle, pressure building from steady momentum, Riku braced against the wall to move in time with Vanitas—each measure of his pleasured gasps, the motion of the hand he uses to work himself, the squeeze of his nails digging deeper into Riku’s leg. Vanitas slides a finger inside of him, then another, pushing in with the sounds of Riku’s stifled whimper as accompaniment. Vanitas isn’t so shy. He keens loudly and shivers with the force of his fast approaching orgasm. 

Even with his voice barely intelligible the tone he mimics is clear, honeyed and sure.

“Love you like this, Riku. So gorgeous. All for me.”

Riku sobs out a moan of his own as he spasms and comes in his mouth. 

Vanitas responds with a muffled shout and stays put to take it all down. He then pulls at himself three more times in rapid succession before he finally falls over the edge with another cry. Panting, he straightens his back and looks up with an open mouthed grin. His chin drips with come. 

Riku pants in answer as he waits for his vision to come back into focus, knees weak and nerves buzzing. 

“I hate everything about you,” Riku says when he’s recovered. Every word of it’s the truth. Riku decides to let him stay there looking pleased with himself. He reassembles himself into a slipshod version of his usual veneer and stomps out, slamming the door of the tiny storage room behind him. 

—

Vanitas is infuriatingly aware of the unique sway he and he alone— _almost_ alone—holds over Riku. Riku is unmoored by this unique spin on the same old hunger, and Vanitas has no shame in using every bit of it to his advantage. 

He’s entertained enough that the Tower sees much more of him in the surrounding days, and each time he comes to call Riku acquiesces with an alarming lack of willpower, incapacitated by attraction. 

In a semi-private nook in a secluded corner of the tower they hastily attempt to bring one another off with their hands, soundless other than a synchronized rub and rustle and puff and pant. It’s not long before Vanitas comes with a groaning laugh, which deepens when he sees how much it affects Riku—all but enough to put him over the edge. With one hand still working to hold up his end of the deal, Vanitas uses his other to link their free hands together, delicately lacing each finger together, and directs Riku to hold him at the waist. They stay like that for a monotonous stretch before Riku begins to pull away, feeling himself a lost cause. Not one to renege on a promise, Vanitas reaches out to hold him there, then presses closer before pushing himself up on his toes to reach up and take a kiss from him. At the tail end of one long draft, he murmurs Riku’s name with a sigh, and looks up from under his eyelashes to meet his eye with a feigned dreaminess. 

Riku restrains a gasp at the same time that Vanitas breaks into a laugh and renders the whole thing a mockery. Before he can lose him again, Vanitas drops into another melodramatic exhale around Riku’s mouth before he takes his lip between his teeth and bites down hard. He lets go and licks at the blood he’s drawn, then cackles anew about the spray of ejaculate that now drips from his occupied hand. 

Vanitas dons a deadly smirk, eyes not leaving Riku’s. He addresses the remainder threatening to fall from his hand with one long stripe of his tongue. Without breaking eye contact, he uses the same hand to slap him hard across the face. Riku stays absolutely still. Vanitas languidly cranes up to mouth at his cheekbone in a halfhearted attempt at cleaning it. 

“Don’t you wanna taste me too?” Vanitas mutters to the corner of his mouth. He reaches down to squeeze the vein at Riku’s wrist between his thumb and forefinger and takes the hand he just used to slap him to put his own fingers into his mouth, one by one. “It’s only fair,” he says, closing his lips around his ring finger. He increases the pressure on his wrist until Riku follows suit, mirroring the way he’d worked his tongue to clean up to each knuckle. 

Vanitas blinks slowly and slides into a satisfied sneer. He wraps arms around Riku’s neck to bring him close, and slides their tongues together once more. 

Vanitas takes special care to suck on the part of his lip he’d left sensitive with his teeth, then laughs when he shudders. His amusement escalates at the expression on his face, then he’s caught in a hiccup that quickly turns breathless. He gasps until he’s doubled over with sobbing laughter.

“What are you getting out of this,” Riku says in his most measured tone. It’s a statement, not a question—he doesn’t really want to know. 

“I’m allowed a little fun every once in a while, aren’t I? Some of us actually consider that kind of thing, you know.” Vanitas reaches up once more to nip at his lips with a laugh. “Thought I’d give you an idea. Since you’re always running dry when it comes to that sorta thing.” With a hard stop, he puts on an exaggerated air and looks askance at his own hand. “Well. Not _that_ dry,” he says, putting it into his mouth again. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, dry and mirthless, and continues as he does up his belt and stomps away from the premises. 

Vanitas can’t bring himself to say goodbye—he’ll turn up again two days later to be blown with back arching thoroughness on a sofa in an empty common room. Three days after that during a hasty dry hump in the hallway he’ll bite bruises around Riku’s collarbone that bloom out in blotches, considerate enough to match the answering spread he leaves across Riku’s groin. Two days after that they’ll barely conceal themselves amongst the flora on the outskirts of the Tower and he’ll stand above Riku and instruct him in dry monotone on when and where and how to touch himself. And after five days, just when Riku is starting to think he may finally be rid of him, Riku will return to the bedroom he shares with Sora to find him rummaging around in his dresser drawers and rearranging all his things into neat little piles with no organizational rhyme or reason. 

“Little contrived, don’t you think?” Vanitas says without looking up, presenting the little black strip of cloth that served as Riku’s primary accessory to crime that sleepless year. 

“Because subtlety’s definitely your thing,” Riku responds, half-heartedly gesturing to Vanitas’s helmet, perched precariously on the high pedestal of books he’s stacked almost to the ceiling in haphazard fashion. 

“Well, we’ve all got our hangups, don’t we,” he says plainly, delicately refolding a sweater that he’s turned inside out and placing it on top of a lamp. 

“So I take it you’re here for a heart to heart.” 

“Aren’t you clever.” 

Vanitas closes the drawer and walks to stand solidly in front of him. He tugs on the collar of Riku’s jacket to bring him closer to his level.

“Just love our little chats,” Riku deadpans as he’s manhandled out of his clothes. When Vanitas finally succeeds in the task, he holds up the blindfold and watches for his reaction before reaching up to wrap it around Riku’s eyes with careful consideration. 

Against all better judgment Riku doesn’t protest. Vanitas kisses him. He remains passively still until Vanitas opens his mouth against his to press their lips together gently. 

Riku is surprised but reciprocates without hesitation. He arches down to meet him and brackets firm hands around his face. The action cuts the strings on the restraining force between them and they move together fluidly, every subsequent kiss more intentional. It’s deceptively sweet first, lips pressed to lips with soft wet noise. But it escalates to aggression—shortness of breath and hums of exertion signifying it’s more a means to an end. Vanitas loses patience and licks his way into Riku’s open mouth, and it quickly grows sloppy, each gasping for air from one another. 

Riku makes to level the playing field, finding himself at bare disadvantage, and slides off Vanitas’s jacket to let it fall to the floor. Slowly, he begins to shift him out of the rest of his kit, piece by piece. He’s presented with minor obstacles, mainly their reticence to stop mouthing at each other long enough to speed up the process, but soon enough they slide together skin to skin.

Vanitas’s frame is small, which Riku expected, but he’s rounded out with sinew, which he didn’t—he’s strong, and fast, but for some reason he’s surprised to find the evidence for it reflected across his body with the facade stripped away. He expected someone different, Riku figures—someone who for all his strength and agility remained eternally thin and lanky with much more subtle muscle. He won’t think about it too hard. 

Vanitas pushes him backward and Riku staggers, catching himself before falling. Undeterred, Riku immediately searches for his mouth again. Vanitas meets him halfway and shackles him at the wrists with his hands before he walks him backward once more. Riku stumbles behind and feels the back of his legs connect with a solid surface.

“This isn’t my—” Riku starts, standing ground, but he doesn’t make it far. 

“I know,” Vanitas says, and shoves him. Riku falls back onto Sora’s bed, left unmade that morning while he frantically packed for a mission he ran late for. 

Vanitas climbs on top of him. As he clambers over and wrestles him into place, Riku leaves every bit of judgement in the cold, struck by the way Sora’s sheets still smell like him. 

Vanitas situates himself between Riku’s legs and rests on his knees before stretching up to nip at Riku’s mouth. Tongue swathed in spit, he makes his way down Riku’s chest via throat and jaw, taking lengthy detours to bare his teeth across sensitive skin with methodical patience. He doesn’t sigh with the throaty huff that Riku’s come to associate with him, but a sweeter sound—a yearning that Riku’s heard thousands of times in his imagination. One he copied from dozens of overheard dreams. One he perfected and replayed with nauseated guilt on the many nights he spent in this bed in fantasy alone. 

He won’t tell him to stop—he’s powerless against it, only able to lay back and grip helplessly at bedsheets. Riku breathes around his own arousal, feels the familiar way his eyelashes brush against the blindfold as he turns to bury his cheek in the mattress. 

Vanitas halts a trail blazed with sucks and bites directly under his belly, and Riku tenses with anticipation as he lets his lips rest right there for a moment. Vanitas wraps a hand on either side of his hips, curling his fingers to his back and slotting his thumbs right at the top of the _V_ carved out at his groin. His touch is delicate but Riku still twitches in reflexive surprise, and cries out in shock when Vanitas reaches to maneuver the length of him into his mouth and envelop him with his throat before sucking him off with vigor. 

The first time Riku jerks up with the threat of climax, Vanitas lets him go, sliding off him with an obscene wet noise as he rises to stand. Riku blinks up in his general direction from behind the blindfold, dazed. 

“Sit up,” Vanitas commands. Riku obeys. 

“Turn around,” Vanitas says, and once again he complies, and again when he’s told to move to his knees, and still yet when he’s compelled to his elbows too. “You’re good at this.” 

Riku doesn’t respond, only braces for the next step, and he does not flinch when Vanitas settles in and tongues wetly inside of him. Vanitas gasps for breath and returns to mouth at him again, puckering a slobbering kiss inside him to aid the messy process of eating him out. Riku squirms the slightest bit each time he probes deeper inside, tongue slipping easily around his own saliva, and he’s aware of the steady arm motion Vanitas uses to stroke himself firm. 

Satisfied, Vanitas trades his tongue for a finger, and when Riku tenses around the motion he laughs softly in a cadence that doesn’t belong to him. 

“Hey,” he reassures. “It’s okay. Can you take some more for me?” 

Riku’s “ _yes”_ comes with much more of a moan than he would like, but Vanitas slides another finger in, waiting for his muttered approval before he inserts one more and starts work him open. 

“Okay,” Riku says as his senses stop swimming, but he’s knocked right out of stability again when the next finger thrust washes a heat around him that renders him incoherent. 

“That’s good, you look so good,” Vanitas says as he slowly drops his hand to his side but does not drop the voice. “I never thought I’d see you like this.”

Vanitas shoves him, and Riku collapses on his knees as he climbs to straddle him. Vanitas puts one strong palm between his shoulder blades and pushes him flat. He’s so small. 

“I’m never gonna think about anything else.” 

Vanitas proves it; he’s hard when he presses against him. He’s not all the way there yet, but if the soft rut against the back of his thigh is any indication Riku figures he intends to get there soon. Riku exhales and arches his back, and Vanitas takes the opportunity to take him in his hand. Riku chokes off a groan where it starts as Vanitas simultaneously grinds against him and jerks him to full hardness to match, and after their breathing becomes increasingly ragged Vanitas slows his pace.

“Can I have you, Riku?” he asks, still mimicking that stolen earnestness, kindness superimposed all over his roughest edges. 

“Yes,” Riku responds in spite of himself, desperate not to waver and resolute not to beg. “Yeah. You can.” 

“Great,” he says cheerfully, then pushes him down again, coaxing him once again onto his back. “Are you ready for me?” 

“Yes, I’m ready,” he says. His eyes cross underneath the blindfold and he breathes to steady himself as Vanitas settles into position between his legs. He fits so perfectly there. They could slot together; Riku can wrap around him with ease. “I’m here.” 

“So good,” Vanitas mutters in response, repeating it under his breath, and then guides himself to sink into him for one long stroke. Vanitas sighs, relishing the sensation of filling him from deep inside, then supports himself with a solid grip on his legs before he thrusts into him even deeper. It pulls something like a sob out of Riku. Vanitas pushes—once, twice, and by the third, he commits to a rough and steady repetition; Riku’s jaw goes slack as he breathes helplessly along. 

“Do you like it?” Vanitas says, and receives a nod. “Do you want me?” 

Riku nods again, the best communication he can muster with the breath stolen out of him, and lays boneless, lit up by a hot prickling sensation all over, desperation threatening to spill over from him like a waterfall.

“Look at you. Look at you, Riku. I want you, I want you so bad, I want—” 

Riku shakes his head, _no, no, no_ , focuses on the feeling of fingernails dug into his legs, tries to shake it. 

He can’t name it—if it’s panic or pleasure or sheer mortification, it isn’t any one of them alone. 

“I need you, Riku, please—”

Riku’s chest heaves as he handles each push, overwhelmed. The smell of him and the feel of him and the _sound_ of him; he knows it for certain, knows what he hears is pitch perfect imitation just the same as he knows that if he takes off the blindfold it won’t be blue eyes he looks into. 

Vanitas takes him in his hand again, and Riku trembles, gasping, anticipation sitting in his chest at his touch and at the sound of his own name repeated breathlessly around him: _Riku, Riku, Riku_ , sighed in nothing short of awe. 

“Riku,” he gasps, desperate, as he reaches the edge. “Riku. Riku, please. Say my name, Riku, I want to hear you say my name.” 

Riku can’t help but sob, amplified by powerful sensation inside and out. 

“I need you so much, Riku, I want you to say it, _please_!” he nearly shrieks, calling out for Riku again and again, not slowing pace on a thrust powerful enough to make tears spill out of Riku’s eyes. “Please, please, I need you to tell me, tell me I’m yours, _say my name._ I can’t take it anymore, I need to know, I need to hear you say it, _please,_ tell me my name—”

It’s finally enough, too much, and Riku shakes out a set of gasping sobs. 

“V- _Vanitas_!” Riku shouts, and comes, spurting out hot under Vanitas’s hand for a moment in spite of the pool gathered on his belly and the splatter dotting his chest. Vanitas isn’t finished himself and doesn’t let up; Riku spits out moans of agony in bursts until he does, choked silent as he fills him and finally loosens his grip.

Vanitas collapses on top of him, full weight against his chest, and slips out of Riku so a stream puddles beneath them.

Riku tears off the blindfold. Vanitas rolls off to the side and stares at him, impassive. The both of them pant. 

“I’m impressed,” Vanitas says, with no inflection indicating that or the opposite. “Right answer, I gu—”

Before he can finish Riku grabs and slams him against the wall; his head makes an audible _crack_ on impact. He rallies immediately and raises his arm—to throw a swing or block one Riku doesn’t know, but he’s still faster. Riku catches him and elbows him in the face, then snatches him by the shoulders to throw him against the wall again.

“Touchy subject?” Vanitas says, collecting himself. His chest heaves—he’s so small—and he wipes blood from his nose with the back of his hand. 

“What gives you the right,” Riku says, barely above a whisper. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to pretend—” He stops, composing himself before he picks up in an even softer voice. “You could never be him.” 

“Isn’t that the point,” Vanitas says flatly, catching a new trickle of blood falling from his mouth this time. He’s ready when Riku lunges at him again and catches his arm, leaving them at a stalemate. Riku glares at him. 

“Touch me again and I’ll—” 

“You’ll what? Kill me? I hope that’s a promise.” Riku’s hand curls into a fist at his side, and Vanitas backs down and lets out an exhale that may be the start of a laugh. “I think perhaps I may have touched a nerve.” 

His expression—or lack of one—doesn’t change. Riku thinks he may miss the derision. 

“What’s your _damage_?” 

“Damage,” Vanitas repeats, and stands. “ _I’m_ the damage; it’s _me._ I am quite literally half a person. Not all of us deal in romantic metaphor.” He huffs through his lips. “You and I have a unique situation. You have a desire and I have an uncanny qualification to fulfill it.

“I think both you and I know it’s not actually personal. Can’t be when you’re not a person.”

Riku has serious reservations. Nobodies hadn’t bled. 

It almost makes it worse.

Riku thinks about hitting him again, to watch blood pour from his nose in rivulets or pool underneath his eye as it bruises. Or maybe he wants to take him, have him writhe moaning beneath him with the force of each thrust, to take him to the brink of orgasm and hold him there until he sees fit to let him go. Emissions of pain, of pleasure, and perhaps one way or the other he could capture his tears, as well—steal human sobs out of him to take for himself. 

Would it be fair price? 

“You’re still gonna have to figure it out,” he finally says instead. 

“Oh, I see it. I understand it. But I don’t _comprehend_. I didn’t get that part of the toolbox in the split from dear brother mine—why you’re so determined to make sacrifices just for a chance at connection. Why loyalty is so important to you when you know just as well as I do what happens when you put yours in the wrong hands.

“You’re in luck, darling; I don’t _want_ to be him. There’s already too much...” 

Vanitas stops. He’s silent for a moment, then scrabbles at his chest by way of explanation. “Too much inside, there’s too…” 

He levels Riku with a look. 

“I’m just saying. Whatever it is, you can’t get it from me. Worth a shot, I guess.” 

“Glad I could teach you about _feelings_ ,” Riku spits. 

“You’ve got them in spades. But no thanks. ...Although, I do owe you. _Pleasure_ wasn’t really a part of my vocabulary.” 

It’s the most earnest thing he’s said in own tone of voice, and it gives Riku pause—come to think, this exchange takes on a new light if he takes it at face value. Perhaps the whole of their piecemeal relationship does, in fact.

”...You’re welcome.”

“Don’t worry,” Vanitas says. “I’ve got no plans to _pine_ for you. You’ve made that process look _so_ appealing, but I think I’ve seen enough. And I’m not worried about it happening the other way around. I think your profound set of _issues_ takes care of that one pretty nicely.”

Riku opts not to respond, his hand unconsciously working itself in and out of a halfhearted fist. Vanitas doesn’t look away, but reaches down to pick up articles of strewn clothing one at a time. He dresses without care, no logic to what goes on or stays off, and stands with the rest bundled in his arms.

“No hard feelings, baby. ...Or, let’s just say ‘ _no feelings_.’ _Hard_ is fine.” 

He grins. It’s the first time he does since Riku entered the room. 

“Consider that a goodbye. I’ll see you around.” 

With that Vanitas turns to collect his most important article—he swipes at the book dubiously holding up the base of the tower he created so it collapses, and he grabs his helmet from the air as it comes down with it. He stops at the threshold and turns to meet his eye. 

“Though, for the record… that really _is_ a good look for you.” 

“I guess I could say the same,” Riku says, pointing in the direction of the black eye blooming neatly on his face. Vanitas smiles one more time, and with his helmet tucked under his arm, puts one hand out palm up and puts the other in position for a crude gesture. He mimes a jerk off motion, spreading his hand out with a fanfare to signify imaginary climax, and marches out the door. He slams it shut behind him. 

The last of the books tumble to the floor, and Riku lays back on Sora’s bed with a sigh, wondering what his excuse will be in the event Sora happens to notice that his side of the room will be meticulously clean by the time he returns.

In spite of it, the sigh Riku breathes out feels lighter. Maybe all he needed was a fight after all.

—

Later he learns that Vanitas is nowhere near the worst mistake he can make—the next time he lies in that bed he knows it as empiric fact. 

It could have been the real thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Vanitas, for reasons unknown, antagonizes Riku about his as of yet unrequited love for Sora. They engage in a brief but comprehensive sexual relationship where Vanitas chooses to serve as a proxy for Sora in ways subtle and not. They are both basketcases. There are lots of issues. It does not end well. It could end worse. 
> 
> [title, babey](https://youtu.be/RpDHdhTvgMs)
> 
> register complaints [here](https://twitter.com/parkadescandal) at my twitter.


End file.
